66 Metres: A chilling thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat!. J.F. Kirwan

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СКАЧАТЬ happened, too many local Vikings pursuing her. Bjorn had said she was interested, just choosing her time. Jake assumed Bjorn was winding him up.

      He buzzed them in.

      In fact there were a dozen people, mainly from the dive club. They had a short forspill, a light early-evening drinking session. The word translated uncomfortably as ‘foreplay’ in Norwegian, meaning the warm-up to more serious partying later. It was a nice gesture, but Jake and the other three looked like thieves trying to pretend they hadn’t just robbed a bank. Except Jan Erik; nothing fazed the guy. Jake envied him.

      About eleven, they started leaving, Bjorn’s sister Vibeke had already disappeared. Bjorn was last to leave. He shook Jake’s hand and held it firm.

      Jake smiled. ‘Dive safe in the Canaries. Look after the other two.’

      Bjorn’s face lifted, a broad smile breaking across it. ‘Enjoy yourself.’ He winked, turned and left.

      Jake was staring at the closed door, trying to work out the non-sequitur, when he heard soft footsteps behind him. He turned around, and his breath deserted him.

      Vibeke.

      As Jake stashed the last box from his rented flat into the Range Rover, he took a long look across the car park to the edge of the local fjord. A familiar orange Volvo estate crossed his gaze. It turned and parked right next to him, skidding to a halt. Fastasson. Jake took a deep breath.

      Fastasson, head of the Halden dive club, short and stocky with strands of lank black hair trying to disguise a rampant bald patch, shot out of his car.

      ‘God Morgen,’ Jake said, in his best Norwegian accent.

      ‘Don’t fuck with me, Jake, I know all about your little night dive.’

      Jake bowed his head. ‘Oh.’

      Fastasson jabbed a finger. ‘Big fucking “Oh”. You should be ashamed of yourself.’

      ‘I –’

      ‘You don’t speak!’ Fastasson paced up and down a couple of times, then jabbed his finger again. ‘You broke the club rules, and you broke my trust.’ His voice quavered. ‘You leave now, and you never come back, understood?’

      Jake spread his hands. ‘Mr Fastasson, look, I –’

      Fastasson shouted. ‘Is that understood?’

      Jake let his hands drop to his sides. ‘Yes.’

      Fastasson turned his back on Jake. ‘Go back to England.’ He waved a hand in the air. ‘I could write to BSAC, get your licence revoked, you know that, don’t you?’

      Jake nodded. ‘You could. Just… go easy on Bjorn and Jan Erik.’

      Fastasson whirled around. ‘They’re suspended for three months.’ His voice quietened down. ‘I can’t stop them going deep in the Canaries, of course.’

      Jake stood there, unsure what more to say.

      Fastasson broke the uneasy silence. ‘Bjorn – he went too fast again?’

      Jake nodded. He could have been angry with Bjorn, but it had been his decision to take him down when clearly – with hindsight – Bjorn hadn’t been ready.

      ‘Needs more training. Jan Erik was good, though.’

      Fastasson nodded. ‘I’ll try to talk some sense into both of them.’ He walked over to the edge of the fjord, then turned back.

      ‘Do you remember the lecture you gave us on dangerous diving?’

      Jake nodded.

      ‘You said there were three categories: adventurous diving, dangerous diving, and reckless diving. You said it was important to know the difference.’

      Jake stared at him.

      Fastasson walked right up to Jake. His voice was milder, but earnest. It cut deeper. ‘How many rescues have you done in the past year?’

      Jake didn’t need to count. ‘Five.’

      ‘Rather a lot, don’t you think?’

      Jake said nothing.

      Fastasson laid a heavy hand on Jake’s shoulder. ‘There’s something broken inside you. Go home. Fix it. Before something tragic happens.’

      Fastasson got back in his car, glanced one final time at Jake, then drove off.

      Jake stood there for a long time, leaning his back against the Range Rover. Then he opened the trunk and fished around inside a holdall. He found his instructor’s licence card in its grey wallet, and stared at it. He’d been so proud gaining it. Sean would have been proud too.

      Sean. There was the problem. The tragedy had already happened. And Jake was to blame.

      He strode across the car park and hopped onto the jetty, and squatted down by the water. He gazed into the water, then let the card slip from his fingers, and watched it sink until he couldn’t see it any more.

      Someone approached. High heels on the boardwalk. He recognised the gait – sure and confident, yet with a spring in her step. He resisted looking up. The sun was on his face, and then he was in shadow.

      ‘Lorne,’ he said. ‘Long time.’ And then, ‘How are you?’ Because she hated that question, and he no longer cared about the answer.

      ‘Hello Jake. Took a while to track you down.’

      A lie. As usual coming from her. MI6 kept track of former employees, as any intelligence agency must. He glanced upwards, did a quick scan. White leather shoes, tan tights, short, form-hugging cream dress, and long, straight, sand-coloured hair coming halfway down her back. The morning sun was behind her, so he couldn’t see her face clearly. Better that way. He knew it well enough. Attractive, but something hard just underneath. Driven. Knew what she wanted, always got it in the end. Burned people up and moved on.

      ‘The Rose has been stolen,’ she said.

      Not good. But the mere mentioning of it made everything flood back to him. How great it had been at the start, good for ten years, and then so bad at the end. He stared at the loose pebbles on the dusty concrete leading up to the sun-bleached oak planks where she stood.

      ‘I’m not coming back, Lorne.’

      ‘You can use my first name, you know.’

      Sara. ‘Find someone else.’

      She walked a few steps in front of him. ‘I need all my assets in place. This is too big. You of all people –’

      He stood up, taller than her. The thought of shoving her into the fjord flashed through his mind. But despite everything, the chemistry was still there. He was glad of Vibeke last night.

      ‘I’m not coming back, Lorne. Tell them I’m damaged goods, no use any more.’

      She СКАЧАТЬ